Clichés
by belle dans bleu
Summary: Memories of a besotted mind. He's gazing at what he had and lost


Tall and willowy. That's how I'd describe her. And elegant. Yea...she was always elegant. Always carried her nose high and head proud. Expect when we had sex. She'd let that go out the window. Throw caution into the wind. That's what she said once. Throwing caution into the wind. To be with me.

She's gone now. Fixed the error of her ways. Her parting words were cliché, to me atleast. "I can't be the sister-in-law to my daughter-in-law. My son has, and will always come before me." Giving She was always self-less. Never selfish. That's where we'd clash. Two self-less people giving themselves to one another. Hard, not but unsuccessful. I lie...she was selfish, once. I don't blame her. It was to be out last time together. She had all right to want every bit of us.

I remember our last encouter. It was the night my sister became her son's for better or for worse...for richer or for poorer til death do they part. She'd come into my room. Silent as always, I was sitting in the bay window, watching the stars peek through the thick night sky. She came and sat in my lap, leaning against me watching the same nothingness.

She turned and staddled me, wrapping her arms around my head, pulling me into her chest. "Do you hear it." She whispered, pressing me deeper into her bosom, making me listen to the steady beat of her heart. "It beats for you." She paused. "It aches for you." I pulled away looking up at her.

Startled, because her eyes held so much love...and regret. She leaned down and kissed me so gently. So softly. She tilted her head to my ear. "Take me to bed. Please. Take me." I could never turn her down. Not now. Even though I knew what was to come. I picked her up, and walked to my bed, setting her down gently, I moved away to stare at her.

Reaching down, I slid the shoe off her dainty foot. One-by-one. She looked at me, with something akin to love in her eyes. Once she saw me staring at her. She looked away a delicate blush rising on her cheeks. I reach out of her, forcing her to meet my eyes. I leaned over and kissed her. Delicately she kissed me back. Wrapping her arms around my neck.

Slowly, she pulled me down on top of her. Slowly, I began to unbutton her robe. I pulled her robe off and looked at her blood red lingerie. She was an object of beauty. Even in her age, she held a body to be envied. Unconsciously, she moved her hands to cover her body from my appraising eyes. She always saw imperfections my eyes never picked up.

I moved her hand away, and she let out a little groan. She hated when I paid attention on her faded lacerations. As much as she dispised them, I loved them. She loved my freckles, but I hated them. "Equivalent exchange." She giggled once, in post sex delirium. She said all kinds of weird funny things after sex. Things that only make sense now.

I caressed the skin of her hips. So soft. She was a soft person in general. I was always afraid I'd bruise her. But that never mattered to her. She loved it when I fawned over her like that. Asking is she was alright. She loved to be pampered and have my attention. That's what she thrived on. My attention and silly childish ways of affection. She told me it was like being a child again.

She groaned and whispreed for me to stop and move on. I removed her underwear and stared at her. I wanted her to remember me. To remember what we had. She sat up and quickly removed my clothing. I climbed on top of her as she stared at me. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and angled herself for me. She'd never done this. She was always one for foreplay.

I entered her and she moaned, digging her nails into my back. I moved slowly, wanting to savour this moment. "Faster." She whispred. I picked up the rhythm; after all, this was about her, not me. She arched into me. "Deeper." She moaned, I braced myself as she pulled her knees higher. She let out a frenzied moan, "Harder." She commanded. I picked up the pace, shamelessly pounding into her. She buried her face into my shoulder, and held me tight.

My mind became numb as she started to claw at my back. My only focus was to make her see stars. She dug her heels into my lower back and stiffened, with a low moan, she climaxed, but I kept going. She arched into me once again and I moaned, feeling my climax near. She clenched against me and it was over.

I rolled off of her and held her. Coming back to the shivering woman in my arms, I looked at her. Surely her orgasm couldn't have been that great. She was crying. Streams of pearls dripped off her eyelashes and onto her cheeks. "What's wrong."

She held onto me tighter and cried harder. "Narcissa." I stroked her hair, as she sobbed. "Don't leave me." She whispered. "Not right now. Just please...hold me." And I did. All night, She stopped crying at around one...fell asleep at three...and left at six. Crying to me, that she couldn't...wouldn't be the sister-in-law to her daughter-in-law.

Now, almost two years later, I still watch her. I still feel her soft skin on my fingertips. Her lips on mine, her body under mine...I'd always sigh and look at her as she chased after her grandchildren...my neices and nephews. She's always laughing with them, always playing with them...always throwing me secret glances always throwing my wife secret glances.

Obsession, we're obsessed with one each other. Obsessed with hating each other's spouses, obsessed with avoiding each other. She's married to Snape now...and I'm married to a model, that looks just like her. Long flowing blonde hair, pale, regale and elegant. The only difference is, her grey are always warm and loving.


End file.
